Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 95(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 95(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
“Okay.” He nods to the guards. “Time for her physical exam. Bring her.”
He leaves the room first. The two men beside me grab me roughly by the arms and drag me after him, down a long hall and into a white room that resembles an infirmary. There is nothing but an overhead light and a bed covered in white sheets.
“Remove her handcuffs and leave us,” Killian tells them. The men unchain me, and I might be imagining things, but I’m pretty sure they bow before excusing themselves.
The warden levels his eyes at me, and as casually as we were discussing the weather, tells me—
“Strip.”
My jaw drops. His words bury themselves in my chest and my mind flashes back to the judge’s gavel hammering out my sentence and my mom scorning me as I was hauled away.
Killian’s pitiless eyes pin me in place, piercing through my exterior and straight into my soul.
“W-what?” I gasp.
“You heard me. Strip,” he repeats. “You are required to undergo a physical examination before you are taken to your cell.”
I’m trembling as I gaze back at him, helpless. But then it happens.
Killian lashes out with his rod, snapping the corded leather against the wall by my head with a crack that sounds like lightning. I gasp reflexively, but nothing comes out.
“You will obey my every last word,” he repeats, this time with a dark, threatening tone.
Fear grips my stomach as I reach for the top button of my jumpsuit. No man has ever even seen me in a bikini, and he wants me to get naked for him. I bite my lower lip and try to calm my heart.
A war rages within me. With each button I undo, revealing more and more of my body to the warden, the fear grows. But with that fear, is something else—a craving for something I don’t understand.
My eyes focus on his hands, strong fingers wrapped around his rod of discipline. I undo the last button, and my jumpsuit falls to the cold, concrete floor, leaving me standing before him in nothing but my bra and panties.
The wet spot has grown. I feel it. Damp fabric pressing against my most hidden parts.
No doubt he sees it too.
My hips twist involuntarily. I can feel his gaze on me like a physical force, freezing me in place. Everything about him screams power. This man is in control of over five thousand dangerous men. I will never be a threat to him.
“And the rest,” he says. Please, no. I was praying he wouldn’t demand more, but what can I do?
I must obey.
I unclasp my bra first, letting it fall past my arms, then reach down and with a trembling gasp, pull my panties over my hips.
This is so embarrassing.
Both land at my feet and I instantly move to cover myself with my arms, but the warden’s voice rings out like thunder.
“Did I say you could cover yourself?”
My body jerks. I fumble. “I—”
So much is happening at once. It’s too much.
A tear slips from my left eye, yet I somehow manage to move away my arms and hands, revealing my full naked self to this man I just met.
This man who owns me. Who owns my life.
His gaze flickers. His left hand moves between his legs for a brief moment. A thought runs through my mind.
Is he touching himself through his pants?
I should be disgusted. Instead, I’m suddenly hot, starved for some kind of relief.
“Lie down on the bed.” He points, his hand unwavering. “Legs facing me.”
A piercing fervor grips me like a rope coiled around my neck, overriding the furious anxiety threatening to take over.
I do as I’m told.
The old cot’s springs creak beneath me as I lie back. The sheets are scratchy and rough. The light is clinical, casting no shadow, hiding nothing from him.
The throb between my legs expands as he circles me, his eyes examining every single inch. He slowly drags the tip of his rod across my nipples, and I cringe as they pucker and harden.
There’s a tiny pulse at the edge of his jaw. He widens his stance, as if making room for something between his legs. “You look so sweet, but you’re a bad girl. Aren’t you?”
Everyone’s been attacking me all day, but when Killian says it, it doesn’t feel like an accusation. It feels like an invitation.
He continues down my belly to my crux. My center. My legs squeeze together involuntarily. And in a flash, he has both hands on my thighs and is spreading me wide open.
A cry chokes in my throat. My body twitches.
His touch…it’s soft like silk…
It’s okay. This is just a physical examination. It’s standard. Nothing to worry about.
I keep telling myself this, but it does nothing to stop the flush spreading up from my breasts, up my throat and turning my cheeks red as apples.